Smile Again
by Juliet6866
Summary: Takes place during season 2 finale, my telling of the ily moment and the rest of the day after it. Fluff with substance :D All C/B, Chuck's POV. Please R/R!
1. I love you too

A/N: My first fic posted here :) Please review for me! Thanks! xoxo

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"I'd like to know if you'd be open  
To starting over from scratch  
I'd like to know if you'd be open  
To giving me a second chance"

--Kendall Payne "Scratch"

I know she will pass this way on her route home.

I tell the driver to stop, "Mickey, right here will be fine."

"Very good, Mr. Bass." He says to my call.

I check myself in the mirror and ready the peace offerings I gathered in Europe. They seem stupid now. She only asked one thing of me. But that thing was so impossible: Say the scariest three words, the most terrifying 8 letters in the English language. And I couldn't do it. I choked. Gossip girl was right about me. My label might as well have been branded on my chest. It would have hurt less. Coward. I wore my scarlet letter around Europe hoping I could outrun the fear, the shame. But, her voice followed me, haunted me.

_I love you._ Her ghost would whisper.

I couldn't shut it out. No amount of bourbon could get her out of my brain. Even though I tried over and over to anesthetize the feelings, I couldn't stop hearing her. I just needed it to stop so I could be me again. So I could go no with my pitiable life, the life without her in it.

_I love you so much it consumes me._

But, that's how I felt. How could she possibly feel the same? No one can love Chuck Bass that way, the way I love her. Because her happiness, her smile had ruined me, set me aflame. I still get butterflies in her presence, even after all this time. And I couldn't accept the ridiculous notion that I inspired them in her as well. Beyond that, if I said it back, she would know the hold she had over me. And she would draw me in with her hypnotic eyes and sweet, sexy laugh. She would think there was something redeemable here that I couldn't see. I knew that I could never make her happy. I was so sure of it. How could the hollow shell of a man that I am give her what she deserves? I am gutless and I disappoint the ones who care about me.

_I know you love me too._

It was a tape on loop in my head and I couldn't hit pause. Moreover, I couldn't shake the mental image of her begging me to be strong enough to love her back, to not break her heart again. I felt sick. I was the one always letting her down. I was the reason her eyes brimmed with tears and her lips trembled. Who does that to someone they love?

The answer was clear: Cowards.

Cowards run when they could stay, take a leap of faith and say three little words.

_Tell me you love me. _She breathes in my ear for the hundredth time.

And suddenly the clouds cleared. I could say it. _She_ wouldn't hurt me. No, _I_ had already hurt both of us enough. She would be merciful, she would be gracious, the only person in the world who knows the true me and loves me. And not only loves me, likes me, wants me, hungers for me. She deserves so much happiness and I knew how to give it to her. And just maybe through her joy I could find a little of my own. For the past year my mood and contentment have relied on hers. Possibly hers relies on me too, and having her unhappy is never something I wanted. It all seemed so easy after that. I would tell her; I would make those trembling lips smile again. I wouldn't hide; I would be brave for her, always her.

So here I stand, leaning against the limo, my confidence high. When I first spy her walking toward me, I can't fight the slight smile that peeks out. She is a vision in green and gold, her hair catching in the breeze and shimmering in the sun. She travels with an air of carefree purpose, like she knows where she is going, but is in no hurry to get anywhere. She finally turns and sees me. Immediately she falters. I can tell the first reaction to my presence is surprise, and then she watches me warily. I don't blame her. I am the one who ran away. As a result, I am the one here seeking absolution, redemption. She sees the packages I carry, but locks her eyes on mine. I try to remember the paralyzing fear that I once experienced at the mere thought of what I am about to do. Yet, I can't. I am in awe that this beautiful, self assured woman loves me.

"Why aren't you in Europe?" She asks suspiciously. Apparently, she has been reading the Gossip Girl blasts about my travels.

"I was in Paris," I answer. "But only to get your favorite macaroons from Pierre Herme." I offer her the box, smiling assuredly. She takes it.

"And Germany?" A slightly confused, and maybe even amused Blair asks.

"To pick up your favorite foam stockings. You know how I adore them." I really do adore them and I can't help but get hot and bothered at the sheer memory of her petite thighs wrapped in the delicate fabric.

"What are you doing here then?"

The moment of truth. Three words.

"You were right. I was a coward running away again." I hope she can let me explain and hear the honesty in my voice. "Everywhere I went, you caught up with me." I continue ruefully. "So I had to come back."

There it is, my brilliant explanation. To my ears it is lackluster and unconvincing but, Blair has always been the more forgiving of the two of us and I hope that precedent remains true today.

"I want to believe you, but I can't." I hear the sadness in her voice and I know I'm the one who put it there. My face becomes serious and my jaw clenches. I really don't want her to feel this way. "You've hurt me too many times."

"You can believe me this time." I say, conviction in my voice because I know she won't have to wait much longer to get what she needs. Eight letters. I'm ready.

"Oh…" She is unconvinced and pauses, dropping her eyes. "That's it?" She hedges, daring to hope, her eyes looking toward me once more.

I smirk, just the opening I was waiting for. I can read the suspense on her face.

"I love you too."

She looks so taken aback, but so elated. She moves toward me and then the world stops when her lips meet mine. I wish my hands were free to hold her closer.

She pulls away and says, "Like can you say it twice?" accompanied by genuine laugh and broad smile. I've missed that laugh.

I smile, about to say it again, but she kisses me. _Of course I can say it twice, I can say it a thousand times if it keeps you in my arms._ I think to myself.

"No I'm serious, say it twice."

She doesn't stop kissing me so I utter, "I love you," in between our lips, "I love you, there's three." I can feel her delight and relief mixing with mine, "four, I love you."

"Enough talking." She manages to say kissing me another time.

I can taste her tongue as it eagerly deepens the playful smooching. We make out on the New York sidewalk, pedestrians passing, probably staring. Neither one of us could give a care. Kissing her is an enigma, it feels new, but familiar all at once. Consequently, I can't get enough. She is the strongest drug I've ever taken and I always want just one more hit. We stay there for an eternity, because time stops here.

Suddenly our phones go off in unison. That can only mean one thing. We both stop for a beat before reaching for our cells.

_Looks like B just can't seem learn her lessons. _

_And trying to teach and old Bass new tricks is harder than it looks._

_But, remember B, those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them._

_Hope you have better luck with your latest episode of déjà vu._

_xoxo, Gossip Girl_

Attached is a picture of our street side lip lock, supplied no doubt by a helpful gossip hound.

She looks at me, defiance written all over her face. Gossip Girl was dead wrong about her, weak is one thing she is not.

"Bitch." Blair states with finality snapping her phone shut. She reaches for me, pressing her lips to mine another time.

I laugh gently, searching for the door handle to the limo. I find it and usher her in quickly. The moment I lower myself in and hear the door latch, she is all over me.

"Take us for a ride, Mickey." I say to the driver.

He smiles at me in the rearview mirror.

"We may be a while." I add, rolling up the partition as Blair moves on to sucking my neck.

"Very good, Mr. Bass." Mickey replies as the divider slides shut.


	2. Limo Memories

A/N: This is my first fic posted here, I hope you like it! This is where it gets M.

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"I want to trace your scars with my fingertips  
Want to follow it's fracturing line  
I think you should know  
How beautiful and brave you already are"

-John Ralston "Second Hand Lovers"

I turn us in the seat until I am over her, her head leaning on the driver side door frame. I remove her coat and sweater together. She sighs as I kiss and lick the crook of her elbow. I unbutton her top and untie the bow around the neck to reveal her bra. Yellow and white, lace and satin. I groan, the things this girl does to me. Bar none, she has the best lingerie of anyone I have ever seen and I have seen my fair share. She has an air of innocent seduction that I find intoxicating. I kiss down her chest and can feel her heart rate increase. I pull at her skirt and see the stockings I adore. I run my hand up her thigh and can hear her breath hitch. There is nothing better than this. Nothing can compare, not even the first time, right here on this very leather seat. Because this time, she is mine, not half Nate's, looking for revenge. Not part of a game, a ploy, a dirty secret. She is here with _me_. I lick the insides of her thighs and she bites her lip and whimpers.

"Chuck…" She purrs.

Heaven. Bliss. Nirvana.

My senses are filled with Blair. Her silky smooth skin under my touch. Her enticing smell. Her delicious taste on my tongue. The very sight of her sprawled on the seat wantonly squirming in anticipation.

"Chuck…" My name on her lips.

"Chuck, your clothes, I need you now." She whispers desperately.

"I thought you liked fore-play." I remind her jokingly.

I crawl my way up her body until my eyes level with hers. I press myself against her and I know she can feel my arousal. I lick her lips, sealing it with a kiss.

"We have been denying ourselves for how long now? I think we've had enough fore-play." She states in a breathy voice that drives me crazy.

She's undoing my belt and pants and all the teasing in me evaporates. It's replaced by pure lust. I can feel a thrill go through me. I reach for her skirt, slipping it off her hips and mindlessly throwing it to the floor. She is so beautiful, so goddamn sexy and all mine. She shoves my pants and underwear down. I kick off my shoes as she pulls at my shirt buttons. She smooths her hands down my bare chest and I can see the passion ignite in her eyes._ Cool exterior, a fire below._ How true. And how quickly the ice queen can melt under the right touch, namely my touch.

I am naked, straining and so ready to take her. She reaches down and palms my length and I moan, just a little, because god does that feel good. The heat of her contact sends electricity through me. I remove her matching panties in a fluid motion. The search of my pockets for a condom apparently takes too long because by the time I have it in hand, she nabs it and rips it open. She slides it on me. I shudder.

Then I kiss her, thrusting my tongue in her mouth as I thrust more of myself into her. I can hear her moan, muffled by our tongues twisting together. She surrounds me everywhere. Her arms are tight on my shoulders, her legs tense on my waist beckoning me to give her more of me and take more of her in return.

"Deeper." She pleads and I acquiesce.

My breathing becomes more rapid and my heart breaks out in a sprint. I can feel her hips moving in time with mine. We continue like that, meeting each other until we are entirely connected, perfectly matched puzzle pieces, then breaking apart again. It's a synchronized dance that neither one of us remembers learning, but we have mastered nonetheless. She breaks the spell she has put me under when she yells out again.

"More, oh more Chuck. Don't stop." Is she crazy? I wouldn't stop now for anything. Nothing could keep me from making her scream my name in total rapture.

And then I know when I hit that spot inside her because her eyes roll back slightly and her lashes flutter. She pulls me down for another scorching lip lock. I feel the perspiration from our efforts begin to make our skin slick.

She breaks the kiss to call out, "Oh god! Chuck, I'm…"

Her back arches up and she tightens her whole body. And it is through her release that I find my own inside her, spilling myself into the condom.

I collapse on top of her. Our breathing is ragged and ours hearts beat frantically. I know I must be crushing her, but she doesn't complain. On the contrary, she holds me closer. I run my hand through her hair and gaze into her brown eyes. She stares back at me with a look of serenity, one I don't know if I have ever seen before. My heart clenches and I realize once again that maybe I can make her happy. And I'm definitely the happiest man in New York right now.

"I love you." It falls out of my mouth of its own accord.

Her face displays a light, satisfied grin when she responds, "I love you too."


	3. The Third Gift

A/N: Hey All!

Sorry this was so long coming. But I am on vacation soon so, updates should be more timely.

I know it is a lil fluffy romantic, but I really think that Chuck is that way when it is just him and Blair.

Anyway, reviews are lovely, tell me what you like/don't like. :)

xoxo

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"We meet at the lights  
I stare for a while  
The world us around disappears

Just you and me  
On this island of hope  
A breath between us could be miles

Let me surround you  
My sea to your shore  
Let me be the calm you seek"

-Sarah McLaghlin "I Love You"

I pull her on to my lap, gathering her in my arms. I feel so sated and at ease, I could stay here forever. I can't think of anything but how much I love this gorgeous creature. How could I be that fortunate that she loves me too? I dispose of the condom, tossing it haphazardly into the ashtray. She is petting my chest, drawing lazy circles up and down while snuggling her head between my shoulder and neck. She shivers, cool air on her moist skin. I grab her coat to cover her. In return, she mews contentedly, nuzzling my throat. We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, skin on skin.

Peace is all my mind can process. I don't think I have ever been so calm. Usually after sex I am either kicking someone out of bed or bolting for the door. So, this is new to me and at the same time feels like the most natural thing. I could hold Blair forever; keep her safe in my arms, away from the gossip, the drama and the bullshit that sneaks its way into our daily lives. Okay, I suppose sometimes we bring it on ourselves, Blair and me especially. Yet, it stings when the secrets that you have prayed would remain just that, come back to bite you in the ass.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks glancing at me, breaking me from my reverie.

"You." I respond, "Always you."

She chuckles delicately at my romantic admission. If any other woman had asked me that post coitus, I would have given some snappy, sardonic answer. Not with her, she brings out another side of me. And I know she is actually interested in what I'm thinking, rather than just looking for a compliment, even though she got one.

"And you? What are you thinking about?" I twirl a strand of her brown hair between my fingers then bring it closer so I can breathe in the aroma. I can't figure out the familiar smell, lavender or maybe freesia. Either way, it smells like Blair.

"Dan Humphrey." She responds honestly.

Okay, what the fuck?! I throw her a disgusted look. That was definitely not what I was expecting. She gets an ego boost and I get Dan Humphrey.

"Excuse me?" I say with as much self-restraint as I can muster.

"Oh, be serious!" She contests, slapping me lightly on the arm, knowing where my mind just went. She laughs a little, but doesn't continue right away.

"Explain please." I say, my patience wearing thin.

"Well, it was when I talked to him about our 'I love you' game. He told me something I didn't truly understand until right now."

"And what wisdom did you glean from Brooklyn?" I question, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

This better start making sense fast. I was so tranquil and now I'm slightly annoyed. _Blair Waldorf: The Eternal Mystery_ should be the name of her autobiography. She can turn my mood in two seconds flat.

"He said the first time he told Serena that he loved her it was… terrifying. And he never felt so exposed." Her voice turns to a raw whisper on the last word, like she's reliving it. She takes a breath.

I look down, ashamed again. So I have gone from peaceful, to annoyed, then full circle to feeling guilty, in case you're keeping score. I understand that's how she felt, exposed and terrified. I felt it too, but she never left me with those words hanging heavy in the air without reciprocation. When I said it, she jumped into my arms. When she said it, I headed for the nearest exit. I really am an asshole. I want to say something, anything to take away the memories of me not saying it back time after time. But there are no words, so I wait. Suddenly, she takes my head in her hands, lifting my chin so she can look me in the eye and beams at me.

"Then he said the feeling he got when she said it back made it the greatest moment of his life." She pauses once more to give me a peck on the lips.

"I know exactly how he feels now. This is the best moment of my life." She murmurs, her lips almost touching mine. My ego grows tenfold.

Then, she kisses me, this time in earnest. When we pull away from one another it is only because oxygen was becoming an issue. She leans her forehead against mine and smiles with her lips swollen from our kisses. She looks so gorgeous that I can't tear my eyes away.

She can think of Humphrey all she wants as long as I get _that_ smile everyday.

"Couldn't agree more." I admit.

And we start to make out again, but before it becomes NC-17, she stops.

"Can I ask you a question?" She inquires needlessly.

"Anything." I assure her.

"What's in the third box?" she asks curiously, her stare fixed on the abandoned presents resting on the floor of the limo.

I smirk; this girl is ceaselessly inquisitive and knows that anything bought by a Bass is worth opening. I retrieve the largest of the three packages.

"From Italy." I explain, presenting the box to her.

She begins timidly unwrapping it at first, but soon she is a kid on Christmas, tearing at the paper. She lifts the lid and flashes me an excited smile.

"It's beautiful." She says sincerely.

She picks it up to admire it: a gold satin wrapped headband with five clustered blood red rubies in the shape of a heart adorning the left side.

"Are those…?" She cuts off her own question, maybe too shocked to hear the answer.

"Real rubies? Yes." I finish her thought. "Beauty deserves beauty." I say flattering her, even though it shouldn't. She is stunning and worth far more than I could ever purchase.

"I love it!" She declares, hugging me around the neck.

"Love deserves love." I whisper in her ear.


	4. Keeping It Interesting

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback, you have no idea how encouraging it is! This chapter is definitely M. This one is twice as long as the last chapter, which is why it took more time. There is a lil more content, but fluff still abounds :) Let me know what you think!!

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"Moon river, wider than a mile  
I'm crossing you in style some day  
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker  
Wherever you're going, I'm going your way"  
-Andy Williams "Moon River"

I hold her tightly as she turns her gift in her left hand. Meanwhile, my left hand is playing with her right, threading and unthreading our fingers. I idly wonder where Mickey is taking us; we have been in here over an hour. But, I don't care and Blair doesn't seem to either. She starts humming a song I don't recognize at first while appreciating her newest hair accessory. Every now and then she'll turn her eyes to me and smirk casually, like this is just an everyday occurrence: The two of us, stripped of our clothes in the back of a limo, enjoying comfortable silence after making love. I find the idea very intriguing and hope that everyday _is_ like this.

Still, the ever-present doubt nags at my mind, rapping lightly on the door, reminding me that this day won't last forever. We'll have to rejoin the human race eventually and these blissful moments might turn sour. I suppose I'm a pessimist, though I prefer realist (as most pessimists do), but I can't shake the feeling that all good things have to end, particularly in my case. Dark thoughts invade, demanding my attention as I try to push them back uselessly. I find myself thinking of ways to hurt her before she hurts me. But she owns so much of me now, if I harm her won't I simply injure myself in the process? If I lose her, I know it will be my own doing. I can't seem to let myself be happy, it's an unnatural state for me. The monogamy isn't the real issue, it may be tough, but I can handle that. It's mostly the fact that there is no one better suited for me in this world than her. Who else can handle my shit _and_ give it back? I truly believe that she is my one chance at contentment. I vowed to be better, stronger, braver for her. But, doubt doesn't always knock softly; sometimes it kicks the door off the hinges and swallows me whole.

Then, her humming makes it to the chorus. _Tiffany's_, I think, finally recognizing the tune. I sing along in my head.

_Two drifters off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end-- waiting 'round the bend, my huckleberry friend, Moon River and me._

I wonder what daydream she has slipped into in that over active imagination of hers. My uncertainty ebbs slightly, letting the knowledge that she believes that I can do this, that I can be enough for her, comfort my fractured self-confidence. Her song cuts off and she quizzically stares at the headband.

"It matches my ring." She realizes, looking back to me, turning her hand to display the gold band on her finger.

I nod and smile, "It's one of a kind, specially made for you."

It was my final stop on my European gift gathering tour. I was hell bent on getting something I knew would floor her. I needed to bring back something more than just myself. I felt that 'me' was such a small thing to offer a woman like Blair. She would necessitate something spectacular and grandiose. But, on the sidewalk today, she didn't take a second look at the gifts. She only required that I offer my heart. Oddly enough, before her I wasn't sure it truly existed. She found it hidden in a box somewhere, dusted it off and suddenly it's worth something. It's safer in her possession anyway; she can take better care of it than I ever could.

"Are you scared?" She asks turning her gaze to our hands.

"About what?" I murmur, pretending I don't immediately understand her query.

"Us… Chuck and Blair going to the movies—"

"Chuck and Blair holding hands." I finish.

She gives a quiet laugh as I clasp her hand firmly in mine.

"I am more afraid of losing you. I was always afraid of screwing this up." I confess.

She lays the headband back in the box and places her free hand on my cheek.

"We'll figure out how to do this, how to be a couple." She assures with a gentle conviction in her voice. "We will just have to try to keep it interesting." Her voice turns provocative coupled with a devilish gleam in her eye and I remember again why I love her.

"Let me see," she begins while moving her hand to my stomach, "What interests Chuck Bass?"

She allows her coat to fall from her body, revealing her nearly naked form. She straddles my thighs and reaches even lower with her hands. She's clad in only her stockings and bra at this point; it's so risqué, but on her it's somehow still elegant. It should be illegal to look that good. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, I want her. My craving for Blair never truly stops. It simply quiets, hides itself just beneath the surface. Then suddenly, it flashes in like a backdraft of flames overwhelming me completely. This wanting probably isn't healthy, at least not for me. I've never wanted anything or anyone this much.

When she has my 'favorite appendage' in her grasp, she tortures me slowly and purposefully. She strokes me to fullness until there is no blood left in my brain. A wicked smile graces her angelic face. She slips off the seat and kneels at my feet. Pushing my legs open wider, she fills the space with her body. She's a perfect fit, like my skin molds around her, welcoming her, reaching out to get her closer. And now, it's her turn to transform me into a quivering mess. Part of me wants to trap her here and allow her dote on me, to heal my scars and make me whole.

She teases, licking around the focal point, but doesn't make contact. I feel tiny little kisses travel along my hipbones, to my happy trail, then inside my thighs. It wrecks me. If I might have had some will power to withstand the barrage of sensations, it's long gone now. My body is greedy and shameless; it is willing to supplicate to her immediately. It just wants her, but then again, I suppose so do I. She appears to be completely comfortable between my legs, waiting for me to plead, to hand my consciousness over. She knows she had an easy victory over my body, now she's after my mind. Some men might think that a woman at their feet is a sign of dominance. I would take the opposing point; you have no control unless she gives it to you first. She decides everything, pressure, angle, depth, timing. She may be kneeling in front of you, but you're worshiping at her altar. Here, she is in her element. There is nothing that Blair Waldorf loves more than being in control of a situation, it's her ultimate aphrodisiac. I can feel her hot breath so close, so close to my straining member. _Just a little more. Please, oh please. Let me in._ I want to scream aloud, but it comes out as a single word instead.

"Blair…" I whine breathlessly urging her on.

Unlike me, she doesn't use this as an opportunity to lighten the mood. Instead, she intensifies it. Taking me all the way into her mouth without warning. I buck off the seat in absolute pleasure. I can feel her smile around me. My hand falls into her hair, the glossy strands tangle in my fingers. My head lolls back as I'm engulfed by her once more. And I think that her tongue must know black magic or something. Because as it slides up and down the span of me I can barely remember my own name. I think how dangerous this is, my addiction to her. I could so very easily lose myself in wanting her to touch me. And I would gladly hand over all my money, my power, myself if she would just do it again.

And then she does it again.

I can't keep my eyes open or figure out if the trembling I feel is from her or me. All I know is, it's tight, wet and hot inside her mouth and the heat is making me delirious. Her strong lips press on me with delicious force, sealing in the blinding damp inferno. Her tongue switches from languid, lightweight lapping to confident, lingering strokes both with an air of fluid grace and intention. Her hands come back to me and I realize that I missed them. Her small, velvet hands are stronger than they look. They grip my hips, tease my sides and encircle me in time with her lips. She ever so gently grazes me with her teeth and I see stars behind my eyelids. I can't hold out much longer and I know she can hear my blithering calls for her not to stop. I consider if she can grasp just how much I love this, being at her mercy.

I can sense the heat start to course through my veins signaling the beginning of the end. She makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat, but the vibrations hit me hard, pushing me over the precipice, into oblivion. I rush into her mouth with great force. She lets me ride out the waves of ecstasy with her tongue charming out anything I might be holding back. My whole body slackens and she lets me fall from her mouth. I see her lick her lips. It is the single most erotic sight I have ever witnessed. I'm the luckiest bastard ever born.

"Was that interesting enough?" She questions, a victorious smirk on her face, while grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bar and the box of macaroons.

It takes a minute, but I start to regain my sanity and my ability to form coherent sentences.

"Captivating, fascinating really." I commend her, still breathing heavily.

I procure the bubbly from her and begin expertly working on the cork. She sits by my side, curling herself around me. I hear the pop from the bottle and pour us two glasses. I sling an arm around her shoulders.

"What shall we toast to?" I ask lightheartedly before taking a drink.

"To keeping it interesting." She answers, raising an alluring eyebrow at me.

"I'll drink to that." I say clinking my glass with hers.

"You'd drink to anything." She states in an overly sweet, obviously mocking voice.

"I do remember a certain Park Avenue princess having an affinity for fine gin martinis on more than one occasion." I remind her, slipping easily into our old pattern of vicious banter.

"But, no one has ever used the word _alcoholic_ when describing me." She spats back with her holier than thou tone.

"I prefer the term 'drunk', alcoholics have to go to those meetings." I give her a tongue in cheek grin.

"You don't get nearly enough credit for your wit." She returns sardonically.

I huff a laugh, raising my glass to her and she does the same. It is encouraging that we can still be the 'us' I always loved. The comforting repartee of scathing remarks mixed with an underlying mutual respect. It's heartening to think that maybe we can be together and yet be ourselves. But, more than anything, it turns me on. And I forget that she just satisfied my desire because now, I'm ravenous. We both drink and then we share a champagne kiss. I sweep my eyes over her body, planning on how to make her weep with pleasure.

"Hungry?" She grins while opening the macaroons, her question laced with innuendo. She is well aware of my wandering eyes and the smile that begins to form on my lips.

"Starving." I reply as I begin nibbling on her neck.


	5. Say My Name

A/N: You know what sucks? Computer viruses and hard drive meltdowns! because: no computer=no updates! The problem should be fixed now though, but bear with me :) This is M agian, but I swear it isn't PWP- there is a point lol! Reviews are always appreciated! Thank so much and enjoy!

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"No apology because my urge is genuine  
And the mystery of your rhythm is so feminine  
Here I am and I want to take a hit  
Of your sent cause it bit so deep into my soul  
I want you  
Yeah, you do, you do  
You make me want you"

-Third Eye Blind "I Want You"

"Insatiable are we?" She jests while unwrapping her pastry.

Insatiable isn't the half of it. I want her all day every day. My hunger for her never lets up, never wanes. I don't understand it, and for the longest time I despised it. Mostly because I couldn't have her; when the butterflies in my stomach would turn into daggers dragging along my insides, filleting, eviscerating me, making me a gory mess of scraps and shards. Humpty Dumpty only fell off a wall and couldn't get put back together again. Imagine falling off a fucking cliff and hitting the rocks below with a resounding thud over and over. That's what I had become, a bloody, gruesome pile of used up bones and flesh with no use, passion or life. It is not all because of her, but she made me believe that I had some value in this world, like I mattered. And once that feeling is triggered, you can't just turn it off. She made me care and I hated her for it. I hated her because I loved her. The absurdity of my feelings toward her are not lost on me.

I understand that I can't understand. I am just trying to enjoy the ride, before the train derails and I am mangled once more. I know that if this does end, no one will leave unscathed. She will be as violently ripped apart as I am. Our love is our pain.

How do people do this more than once? I can barely bring myself to be here now. And all those waiting anxiously for a ticket to ride makes no sense to me. But, I am new at this and I will be better for her. I will endure what I have to in order to make myself the best version of me. I owe her that much. Actually, I owe her so much more, but she will have to make due. But, she is awfully good at polishing gravel into precious stones. One day, I hope she makes me sparkle.

She gives me a curious look, waiting for me to respond. I recover quickly, burying my face in her curls.

"You know me well." I suck on her earlobe and it raises goose bumps on her skin.

I can't help but enjoy the effect I have on her. It is enthralling. I don't really feel guilty for using it against her when the situation demands since her power over me is a million times stronger.

"Stop it!" She laughs, pushing me away, "That tickles and I'm trying to enjoy my spoils." She bites into one of the macaroons and chews it slowly and seductively.

"So am I." I start licking her collarbone nipping at the soft flesh. She cocks her head to the side granting me silent permission to continue. I am _so _winning this one.

"Sure you don't want one?" She offers again, waving the confection in my face.

"You taste better." I counter.

I slip her bra strap down her shoulder, first one then the other.

"You can't be ready to go again so soon." She states incredulously.

I can tell by the way her body is leaning into me that she hopes her presumption is wrong. I smirk a little at how easy it was to get her along my line of thinking. But then again, her body is a lot like mine, it wants what it wants.  
"Not just yet, but by the time I am done devouring you, I will be."

She groans, thinking about what I have in store for her, anticipation plain on her face. Quickly discarding the macaroons, she readies herself to be ravished. She scoots away from me a little and gives me a 'bring it on' motion with her hands.

"Let's go then," she taunts, "let's see if you can make me beg… like you just did." She states smugly, laying down the gauntlet.

"You should watch what you say." My eyes creep down the expanse of her body, surveying the curves, angles and dips. "I could keep you on edge for an hour." I retort while pulling my hand down her body from throat to thigh. "I could make you go crazy with need, until you cry for it." I nuzzle her neck, placing small kisses there. I linger, my touch feather light and slow. "I could hit all those spots that make you insanely turned on. Like here." I lick behind her ear and she stops breathing. "Or here." My hands caress her side, right under her ribcage and she purrs. "I may never take pity on you and let you—"

"Come… on!" She blurts out, shocking me slightly.

"That didn't take long." I return pulling away, _my _voice a little smug this time.

"You talk big Bass, I want to see some action." She doesn't want to admit her need, but her hands are on me again, probably unconsciously trying to lure me back to her.

"My specialty." I lick my lips in anticipation.

"I haven't seen it yet." She just has to have the last word.

"Patience is a virtue. Oh, of course I took your virtue if I do remember correctly." I give her a cocky smirk. She gives me an impetuous stare in return. I can tell she is trying to figure out if she should continue the conversation until she wins or give up and get on to the main event.

"Then you shouldn't keep me waiting." Her voice is husky and laden with seduction.

"Your wish is my command."

I press my lips to her forcefully, mostly to shut her up in case she wants to continue our repartee, but also because the need to taste her cherry red lips is overwhelming. She sighs into my mouth then bites my lower lip when I pull away. It's a small shocking pain when mixed with my arousal is indescribably good. I kiss her with new voracity and move to suck on her neck once more. I lick and bite, probably marking her. My hands roam freely, caressing her arms, ribs, breast, legs. Her hands are on my shoulders, her body responding, trying to push me lower toward the promised land. She writhes when I begin by unclasping her bra and revealing her chest to me. She bites her bottom lip this time as I use my mouth to elicit tiny moans from her.

My hands travel down her body, lower and lower. When my lips meet her chest, she twitches, bring on a new bout of goose bumps. I bathe her there with my tongue, covering each millimeter of newly exposed supple skin. I go down to her stomach and I dip my tongue into her naval. She giggles at this move and runs her fingers through my hair. God, I love that. I want her to feel this so she understands how much I love her body, There is not a dimple, curve or hair that I don't deem absolute perfection. I know she has body issues, but for the life of me I can't understand why. To me she is a goddess, Aphrodite incarnate. And if showing and telling her everyday will make her believe it, I am up to the challenge.

"You are so fucking beautiful." I gasp.

She blushes and smiles. She looks at me through her eyelashes and I melt like ice cubes on a hot summer's day. Blair is no stranger to having men wrapped around her finger. I mean, sure we fight, get pissed and say things we don't mean. But who doesn't? To be fair I never had a good relationship role model and I only partly blame my father for that. I could have changed before, I could have stepped up and been a man. I am the kind of guy that needs to be slapped upside the head with things. To put it plainly, subtlety is not my strong suit. Now I can be charming and polite when I have to be. But, gentlemen are boring and they don't get to do dirty things like I'm about to do to her. Anyway, Blair was there to push her love in my face and say, 'take it or leave it'. And that is exactly what I required. I am so happy that I decided to take it or come back for it rather.

I take an appraising glance at her face, the face of the woman I love, and turn back to my task. I lick at her lower still until I reach my goal. She gasps when my fingers reach down closer to her core. I tease, hovering just so. She squirms trying to get me inside. But, I hold steadfast, waiting for her to snap. Maybe when she whimpers or her eye glaze over. No, I decide, it will be when she starts saying my name like a swear word, then I will give in. I lick down to her hipbone as I move to my knees. She opens her legs for me, beckoning me to fulfill my promise. I am dying to taste her on my tongue, the part of her I have yet to enjoy. My mouth is watering at the thought.

"Uh… Please… More…" She pants out, squeezing her eyes shut.

I wait, rubbing my fingers ever so gently around my target.

"I want… I need you to touch me." She moans. I breathe out hot air on to her receptive skin. She shudders and her legs move restlessly on either side of me. She is growing impatient and I can sense that she is slowly coming undone. I can barely contain myself and I forget why I am tormenting her. Her postponement only increases my own. I have to get her there, I she has to need me. I yearn for her to teeter on the verge, requiring me to bring her over. It is a powerful thing, being essential to someone's gratification. Then, I remember, she has to need _me_. And if she will only call out my name, then I will know it is Chuck Bass and no one else that can give her bliss right now. I will be her emissary into ecstasy, me any only me. However, from the way her little hands are balling up in to fists, I know it won't be too much longer. And as if on cue, "Goddamn it! Chuck!" she cries out in frustration.

I smile a little at her irritated response. I have been with her relatively few times, but I am so in tuned to her, I can accurately estimate when she will hit overload. I delay no longer because I need this as much as she does. I dive into her. My mouth explores, adventuring and rediscovering anything I may have forgotten. I search for her little bud that will catapult her into euphoria. When I find it, she nearly comes off the seat, her back arching wildly. Her nails claw at me, trying to find purchase on something or simply trying to draw blood for my torture, to get under my skin, a place she already resides. I grab her hips, pulling her legs over my shoulders in one hard possessive move. Because at this moment, I do want to possess her or maybe I want her to possess me. I can't be sure right now because her taste is making me dizzy. She's sweet and salty, tart and saccharine. I feel drawn to her like a bee to honey; her nectar is abundant and I am drunk on it. My tongue is relentless, twisting, turning, making her legs shake. My fingers push inside her, bewildering her nerve-endings.

Even in her prone position, she has full command over me. I listen for her moans, wait for her to shiver and tremble. Her pleasure is entwined with mine so much that without it I feel unfulfilled. I have never felt that way before her. I mean, I am great at sex so women enjoy their time with me. I am not being arrogant, practice makes perfect. And I am well practiced. But, with her I compelled so much more than with anyone else. I get spellbound by her moans, awestruck by her squirms, captivated by her curling toes. I flatten my tongue, taking long swipes over her. She really likes that and her body tenses and relaxes sporadically. She calls out and I know she's close. I feel her pulsate on my taste buds, her blood flushing her creamy skin, bringing a smoldering fervor to her already overheated flesh. She reaches her peak with a strained cry and a shudder. Her thighs tighten around my shoulders and her heels burrow until my back.

My satisfaction is immeasurable as she starts to come down from her haze. Her breath is hurried and frantic, her mouth hung open in response. I am in rapt attention of her beauty once more, like I am seeing her for the first time. Her cheeks are rosy pink, her brown curls slightly matted down with sweat and on her neck a small shadow, a hickey starting to form on her collarbone. How can this radiant woman want me? I suppose I shouldn't care. And when her eyes open up wide and her smile begins to light up her face as soon as she sees me staring, I truly don't.


	6. Making Love

A/N: Hey all! This is the last of the M chapters for this story so, if you like it, eat it up while you can :)

Thanks again for the great reviews, they really do urge me on (Even if I am slow with updates).

Tell me what you like and what I should change.

Thanks again!

xoxo

* * *

"You calm the storms, and you give me rest.  
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.  
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.  
Would you take me in? Take me deeper now?  
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

-Lifehouse "Everything"

She drops her legs from my shoulders and reaches for me.

"Get back up here." she insists while pulling at my arm.

I obey, taking my place beside her. I figure she wants me to hold her, to bond in a subtle way after all that's just passed.

Yet, she doesn't seem to be worn out and I see no serenity in her gaze. Unlike the drained disposition I find myself in after orgasm, hers has seemingly awoken her all over again. Her hungry eyes are telling me that we aren't done yet.

My own need had taken a back seat as I sated hers. But now, her stare has reminded me that I am, as promised, aching with arousal. I am so turned on, in fact, it is almost painful. It is virtually unbelievable that I was so preoccupied with her moans and shivers, I had totally ignored myself. It must be love.

When I sit back on the seat she bends down to grab my discarded trousers. I take the opportunity to look her up and down. I know, I was just between her legs and I have seen it before, but her body is beyond all imagination. And part of me keeps thinking that I have to soak it all in, appreciate what I have while I have it. My mind takes amazing snapshots, but when the subject is Blair, it is hard to get a bad one anyway.

She procures another condom from the pocket. I was never a boy scout, but 'Always come prepared' is a good motto to have regardless. She pulls at the wrapper, but can't get it tear. I offer a hand to help, but she puts the wrapper between her teeth and it rips immediately. I get a strong impulse I lick my lips, though I don't know why. She looks rabid to get the arrangements over with, everything is hurried and hasty. It would be humorous if it wasn't so engrossingly sexy. With shaking hands, she rolls the condom on me without ceremony. I'm sure the shaking is from her orgasmic adrenalin and not from anxiety. She has never looked less nervous in her life; she is nothing but determined and direct in her mission.

I move to take her, lay her down, give her what she has been preparing me for. Instead, she pushes me down fiercely by the shoulders and straddles me once more. She wastes no time impaling herself, taking me all the way to the hilt. My eyes pop open in shock. I was _so_ not expecting that.

My blood boils and overflows from my veins. I feel like I have little or no say in what my body is doing. My hands are at her hips of their own accord; I don't remember putting them there. It is understandable though, I don't think that I could even recite the alphabet right now. _A B C D E Fuck, fuck fuck! _I think I've lost my mind, get the straight jacket and take me away. Nothing matters right now but Blair and the way she rolls her hips. Everything else in the world seems trivial and uninteresting because of what she is doing to me. I can feel it all the way to my toes, delight and torment erotically fused. Above all, she is relentless and steady, riding me with abandon. My fingers start to tighten on her as she tightens around me on the upstroke. If my grip is hurting her, she doesn't complain, I just hope she doesn't bruise easily.

A grunt escapes my throat and I start to feel lightheaded. My heart is slamming against my ribs and the blood thunders in my ears. I have always been arrogant about my stamina, but she is testing me now. I have to gain some self control or this will be over before it's started. I close my eyes and endeavor to quell the sensations that threaten to drown me. _Pull it together, pull it together!_ I chant inside my head. I try to take a deep breath, but I feel like my lungs have collapsed or someone has sucked all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. But I can't hear her gasping or panting like me, maybe the air up there is thicker or she doesn't feel it like I do. However, I realize, she is the one doing all the work and I'm the one that feels like he just ran a marathon. I think that I have found some self restraint and open my eyes. I see that she is utterly lost in sensation, her hands pushed onto my chest for leverage. No wonder it was hard to breathe.

She crashes her hips into mine sharply, her head falls back and her hair cascades down her spine in a sensuous waterfall. She keeps a steady frenzied rhythm and pushes her body into me, my face falling into her neck. I take advantage, putting my mouth to work again. This seems to spur her on and she drives deeper and harder. Pushing, searching, clawing for connection, acceptance, release. My hands go to her ass, holding on for dear life. She smells so good, I wish I could bottle it. I would make millions.

"Tell me." she nearly yells. I can't see her face to look for any clues and my brain isn't running on all cylinders right now.

"What?" I gasp, my breath still coming in frantic bursts. My voice is unsteady and rough, "Tell you what?"

"Say it again, I need to hear it." She moans as she maneuvers her hips to hit the right spot.

It finally clicks, "I love you." I manage to breathe against her ear.

"Again." She begs in a low emotional voice.

"I love you." I say louder, stronger wondering why she needed to hear it. It doesn't really matter why right now, I'm happy to oblige.

She plants her knees firmly on either side of my thighs, squeezing them tightly. Her arms are locked around my neck, perhaps needing to be as close to me as I need to be to her. She makes these little high pitched sounds in my ear that make me want to give in and let go so badly, but I hold off. She pumps and swivels her hips with superb timing and I wonder where she learned it. I shake the thought off, not really wanting to know the answer. Maybe she's a natural.

She leans back, her fingers at my shoulders, eyes heavy lidded, her energy not fading. My hands slip against her damp skin as I hold onto her. There is a look of extreme concentration in her features and I watch her with engrossed fascination, all her masks are gone. She isn't hiding or covering her shortcomings, blemishes and scars. In this moment she is completely free. On top of me in all her glory, she is a force, a hurricane, a ferocious gale come to claim me. I discover instantly why she had to hear me say it again. Because now I need to hear it. Almost reflexively, I must have those words wash over me, heal me.

"Tell me." I ask more than demand.

Her eyes open and she sees me watching her. She fixes her gaze on mine as she slows her movements.

"I love you, Chuck Bass." she states through a smile.

I can feel the effect of those eight letters immediately. They fill my heart beyond its intended capacity and spill out into my whole body. I never thought I would need to hear them so much that I asked for them, but it is so gratifying.

So, this is what making love feels like, amazing.

All the times I thought I was having mind-blowing sex, I was dead wrong. The parade of women, sometimes two or three at once, have nothing on Blair. They were there to pass the time, to fill the void. But not Blair, she is my match in every way, it would only naturally extend to the physical side. Even the night I took her virginity, she was nothing more than my best friend's girlfriend, yet there was still something there, something more. Her hold on me from that day on has been dogged and resolute. I loved her before I knew I had the capability to love a woman like that.

Her eyes have not left me, we stare at each other and suddenly, getting to the finish line becomes vital and essential to my survival. She is on the same page immediately. She works back to her former speed and I feel her fingernail break the skin on my shoulder. It is a negligible pain, especially with what I am feeling in my southern hemisphere. Then she kisses me, deep, probing and carnal. She sucks my tongue and bottom lip. I try to keep up, but everything she's doing is exceedingly marvelous and I'm so caught up in the feelings that I can barely participate.

I'm fighting the inevitable and I know it's a losing battle. But, I'm on sensory overload; a shock runs through me, everything is heightened. Her taste is so luscious, I consider going on an all-Blair diet. She is more than just sugar and spice. She is temptation and satisfaction, crimson and cream, seduction with a cherry on top. I relish every aspect of her with ardent, covetous desire. I am a hopeless junkie and she is my narcotic, the good stuff, pure and potent.

I feel her body's cadence. A perfect, driving rhythm. Her lithe form rises and falls with hypnotic agility. When her hips push in, her back arches. This sends her chest forward and her neck forces her head back, then her lips part. I watch this move over and over, I am entranced. My heart is a steam engine, barreling toward rapture. I might combust, but can't muster enough concern to care. We are desperate now, our mutual aim a hairsbreadth away.

I finally surrender to the crushing need and I can feel her follow after. I find myself falling, and whether she pushed me or whether I jumped is of no consequence. I am falling just the same, weightless and unbound. My climax encompasses the spectrum of emotions. I feel bliss and grief, uselessness and victory, enchantment and loathing, tenderness and enmity. As if all the good and all the bad were compressed into one jarring, sentimental surge. Poison blended with the antidote, burning and soothing me all at once. For those reasons and none at all, I feel like I should laugh and cry. Maybe so I could physically cement the tirade of sensations pulling me apart and sewing me together simultaneously. My release leaves me weak, I go hysterically deaf and I think I may have blacked out for a second. It is the single most forceful thing I have ever encountered.

When I salvage myself from the depths of the chasm I was in, I am still dazed and she is pressed heavy on my chest, draped upon me like a rag doll. Her breathing is deep yet rushed. My arms enfold themselves around her back and clutch her body to mine. She is shaking and I hold her flush against me. I hear a sniffling sound and I pull back to see her crying.

"What's wrong?" A panic slipping into my voice.

She shakes her head and looks at me, "Nothing, that was just so…"

The sentence trails off, she doesn't know how to finish. I understand, I imagine if she experienced anything like I just did, the words would be insufficient anyway.

"I know. It was... everything." I assure her while wiping a tear with my finger.

She nods and kisses me sweetly on the mouth. I pull her back into my embrace. She sighs and I feel her start to relax and so do I. With her sweaty, warm and resting on me, I can't articulate the feeling it brings. But, I keep thinking, _life doesn't get better than this._


	7. Handsome Prince

A/N: Hey all!

This is a short lil chpt. But I am working on the next one so don't fret!

Please tell me what you think, we are out of M and back into big time fluff!

Thanks for reading!

xoxo

* * *

"I know you  
I walked with you once upon a dream.  
I know you  
The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam  
Yes, I know it's true  
That visions are seldom all they seem  
But if I know you, I know what you'll do  
You'll love me at once  
The way you did once upon a dream"

-Sleeping Beauty "Once Upon A Dream"

She's exhausted and to be honest, so am I. But, the thought of being away from her right now is almost too much to bear. I need her close, like if I turn away for even a second, she will disappear and banish me to my old miserable, lonely self. If she stays near though, I will have her breathing there to level me and keep me sane.

I push the button on the door handle and the partition slides open.

"Home Mickey." I tell my driver in a quiet voice, careful not to startle her out of her near slumber.

"Will you be requiring your suite today, Mr. Bass? I can call ahead and have it prepared." He offers, not looking in the review mirror.

He is mindful of the fact that we are both still mostly naked. This guy is definitely the best in the business, full service and discreet. I have yet to fully move out of Lily's and Blair and I will definitely be requiring privacy. Maybe he will get his bonus early this year.

I nod appreciatively, "Yes, thank you."

"Very good, Mr. Bass. We're quite close to the hotel, ten minutes maybe."

I nod again and close the divider once more.

I turn my eyes to Blair. She is dozing off in my arms, my suit jacket around her shoulders. She is completely oblivious to the discussion I just had with the driver, she must be more tired than I thought. I really don't want to leave the limo; she looks so content and peaceful. I feel like I could just stay here and never move. The rational part of me knows that it is necessary to have a change of venue however. Eventually we'll have to go to a place with a bathroom, a bed, food, etc. But ironically enough for two Upper East Siders, those comforts are the farthest thing from my mind even after hours in the car.

Begrudgingly I give in and say, "Blair, we have to get dressed."

I speak in a soft voice while rubbing her back to rouse her.

"Where are we going?" She asks groggily without opening her eyes.

It is kind of cute, her being half conscious and not entirely with it. She must have been as content as I thought she was because she doesn't move at all.

"The hotel," I explain, "We can get some rest there."

"Okay." She agrees, but does not act on it.

"Blair." I coo, lifting her hand and kissing it.

She lifts her head and starts to sit up on her own. My body registers the loss of contact immediately. It takes all my will power to keep from pulling her back to me and holding her there indefinitely.

We start the search for our clothes. I almost laugh aloud as I begin to comprehend the state of the limo. Articles of clothing are strewn chaotically in the backseat. My gifts from earlier are here and there, some flower petals litter the floor and seats. We sort through the mess, me finding her panties hooked on the knob of the bar and her locating my boxers half stuffed in the seat below us. We manage to dress ourselves rather quickly. She looks puzzled as I attend to the last two buttons on my shirt. She is holding one of her shoes in her hand, but not the other. I feel underneath the seat and discover its hiding place.

"Here, allow me," I say while pulling her leg onto my knee and placing the shoe on her right foot, "Cinderella." I tease from the obvious fairy tale nature of the gesture.

"My handsome prince." She returns with a smile.

"Never thought I'd hear that one." I respond and she giggles.

Once we are presentable, or near enough, she resumes her former position in my embrace and begins to drift off once more. We pull up to the hotel a few minutes later. I shake her awake gingerly.

"Hmm…" She mumbles.

"We're here." I inform her.

She seems more muddled than before. I delicately slip out of the door Mickey is holding and reach back to gather her in my arms. I start toward the Palace entrance with her snugly against me.

"I can walk, Chuck." She murmurs in a half hearted protest, but snuggles herself into me further.

"My princely duty." I say, kissing her hair.

We reach the entry and the doorman obliges, nodding at me with a smile. Apparently he is either shocked or pleased with my choice of companion. I am certain that he has been witness to many women accompanying me into the hotel over the years. I can tell he recognizes this one. I smile back, unable to help myself.

Her body is so light, I scarcely feel the burden. It's almost like she is carrying me, like she always has, with her unwavering conviction that I can be enough for her. She is also incredibly soft and warm and she makes these little comfortable sighs in my ear.

Amazing.

We go into the elevator and continue to the suite. Once inside I place her gently on the bed. She stretches a bit and undresses down to her lingerie. Then, tiredly, she climbs under the covers.

I turn away, but she beckons me back.

"Come to bed." She offers, looking at me with sleepy eyes and patting the down comforter.

"I'll be right back. I'm not going far." I assure her with a smile.

I go into the bathroom and relieve myself. When I'm done, I turn to the mirror. But, I don't recognize the reflection. Who is this man? He is so… happy. I can't wipe this silly grin off my face. What is more surprising is the internal fulfillment I am experiencing. I feel whole and complete.

I laugh a little and shake my head. If someone would have predicted two years ago that I would be head over heels for Blair Waldorf, I would have asked for a bump of whatever they were on. The strangest part of it is, this love feels natural, organic, like my destiny, if I believed in that new age bullshit. What I _do_ believe in is Blair and the simple way that she loves me. She is not jaded, she knows it's supposed to feel like this, like coming home.

And the silly grin I am wearing doesn't seem so silly anymore because I know what's waiting in my bed for me: the most beautiful princess a prince could ask for. I wash my hands and face, take a parting glance at the stranger looking back at me. Then, I turn to join my sleeping beauty.


	8. Elusive Sleep

A/N: Hey all! Thanks for the reviews, I am a sucker for a good review ;)

This chapt is all POV, no dialogue. Let me know if I got Chuck right, it's harder than it looks lol!

I was listening to the Counting Crows the entire time I wrote this, so I think Adam Durtiz deserves some of the credit too haha!

Thanks again and enjoy! xoxo

* * *

"I said goodnight LA  
Cause I'm awake in my room  
I've been up for 38 hours  
And it don't look like sleep's coming soon  
Cause I could break like a bird  
Or I could swallow the sea  
It seems like the daylight is coming  
No one is watching but me  
But I don't mind the dark  
Discovering the day  
Cause the night is a beautiful bright blue and gray"

-Counting Crows "Goodnight LA

I exit the bathroom and go towards the bed. When she comes into view, I stop dead in my tracks. My heart tightens beneath my ribs and I'm left breathless. She is asleep, her slight form cuddled into the large mattress. I am so struck by her loveliness. I can't move, can't budge an inch. It hurts, her beauty, it actually hurts. No one can properly explain how this feels, it's indescribable. The jumbled emotions that collide within me in unison are mystifying. How can love and pain be so inextricably bound together? It doesn't ache like the loneliness, this isn't despair. This is a strange hopeful pain that weaves in seamlessly with my joy.

I am so fortunate, I have a sudden urge to fall to my knees, prostrate myself on the ground and thank god for her. But that would be shameful blasphemy, the only thing in this world I worship is Blair. It is by her grace and patience that I am here today. Without her, I would literallly be nothing more than a stain on the pavement, I really didn't care if I died that night at Victrola. I wanted it to end, to be done; the confusion, the uncertainty, the vicissitudes of life. I was teetering on the edge of the roof, alcohol and grief fueling me to give up, give in, let go. All I could see was the desolate blackness ahead, who could continue to live such a bleak existence? I remember how I wounded her so deeply, cutting her to the bone earlier that day.

_Is that it? Or were you going to tell me you love me again?_

As backwards as it sounds, I did it for her. I hoped she would stay away; I didn't want her polluted by the menacing filth that surrounded me. Nevertheless, without deserving it at all, it was Blair who saved me. She talked me down and into her arms. Her arms, so tiny and frail at first sight, are so strong. They catch and crush me, resuscitate and hold me. Life makes sense there, if no where else. Speaking of those arms, I am overwhelmed with the desire to be in them right now.

I change quickly opting for a pair of silk boxers instead of my usual pajamas. Quietly as possible, I slip into the other side of the bed. For awhile, I just admire her. I study the planes of her face, the contours of her neck where it meets her shoulder, her glossy hair feathered out on the pillow, the freckle on her back between her shoulder blades. Even in sleep, eventually she seeks me out, turning into my warmth. She nestles into me, her head on my chest, arm on my stomach, legs tangled with mine. I pull the covers up over both of us and wait for fatigue to take me.

Sleep eludes me however. My mind won't stop, really it works double time. Why does she love me? Can I be what she needs? How can she forgive me after all I've done? Why didn't I do this sooner? Is this how it will always feel? How can anyone smell so damn good?

A million questions plague me, flooding my conciousness and threatening my peaceful state. I hear her murmur something unintelligible and I smile. It's nonsense but in a strange way I understand every word.

I rub her arm and close my eyes, willing my mind to just stop racing. It is to no avail, so I direct my gaze to the windows that look out over the city. I can see the sky starting to grow dim as evening strikes. The perfect sunny day giving itself over to the darkness. I just hope that's not a metaphor for us.

My mind clicks on, refusing to be subdued. Half of me can only register Blair's inviting, perfect body molded against mine. The other half is working furiously, trying to process the day. I relive the way she felt when she rushed into my arms. Her face as she reached pure bliss. The laughing and carefree way she smiled and I, no doubt, smiled back.

Even though my mind is rushing with thoughts, I am completely at ease. I am finally comfortable, like I am on the right path. My whole life I was trying to live up to my father's standards, trying to please and impress. And then the same with Blair. Right now, at last, I feel like I have lived up to my potential with her.

I'm not blind, I saw the pain there, in her eyes, every time I would fall short of her hopes. Never being able to be the man she knew I could be tore me apart. I was too busy holding on to who I thought I needed to be, to play into the non-existent expectations everyone else held. I was the unfeeling jackass, the morally bankrupt Mephistopheles of the Upper East Side. But she decided that I had more to give and she demanded it at every turn.

She was patient at first, letting me get used to my new persona. A persona that could express his love for her. Then she pushed me, hoping I was ultimately ready. However, my old self pushed back, unwilling to be quelled, using any excuse to run. I just knew it was all or nothing. And when I left, that's exactly what I got-- nothing. It didn't hit me until I was alone in Europe, fighting an internal battle between my two selves: the easy, miserable self and the self that loved her so much, it could be whatever she needed. But I was so scared, horrified of what this meant, not knowing if I was ready for this sort of thing. Terrified that I couldn't do it. Petrified of putting myself out there, laid bare and vulnerable. How could she love such a pussy?

I reasoned that time and distance would help, they say it heals wounds or something like that. But, just the thought of those wounds closing forever made me sick. If I cut myself open I'm sure I would bleed Blair, she has taken over so much of me, attached herself to my very foundations. Slice open my stomach and you'd still find those damn butterflies. I didn't want her to fade, I wanted to remember her with acute, sharp certainty that accompanied the stabbing pain. How could I give over the remembrance of her stripped and sweaty, devious and diabolical, reserved and racy? I didn't want to forget, but reminiscence impaired me so completely that I couldn't function. I was split in two and I had to choose. I'm ashamed it took so fucking long, but I am glad I did it at all. I could have more easily gone the other way and never come back. I was enough of a coward to bury myself away until she had moved on with someone else. Probably someone healthier for her. Did I hate myself so much that I would keep any chance of happiness at arms length? Was I doomed to be a tortured soul forever? Wasn't I done paying my penance yet? Couldn't I change and finally experience _my_ becoming?

I know Nate is a better man than me. He is tolerant and compassionate. And I'm a scared little boy who never got to prove to his daddy that he could be a man. Yet, she left Nate and offered herself to me, _me!_ She held my face in her hands and said those sincere, shaky words; my own thoughts and feelings coming out of her mouth.

_I love you and I know you love me too… Tell me you love me and everything we've done, all the gossip and the lies and the hurt will have been for something, tell me it was for something. _

She said those eight letters over and over again, having faith that I cared enough not to hurt her. And then, I broke her heart again. I could almost hear it crack and splinter as I could feel my own shatter into a million pieces beneath my breast. The coward won the battle, but I am relieved to say, he didn't win the war.

My thoughts wander, no discernable connections link them. It is like they come at me from all sides. But, I feel like more of myself than I ever have. Before today, I felt like I was constantly trying to get back at my father for not showing me he loved me enough, for blaming me for my mother's death. Now that Blair is lying beside me, I have a slightly different perspective. I truthfully don't know how I would cope if my child was a daily reminder of the pain of losing my wife. With Blair here, it seems so much more relevant. Not that I am even going to entertain the thoughts of marriage or pregnancy yet, it's just that I can't begin to comprehend losing her. I have a new respect for my father and more importantly, I understand precisely what he lost when my mother died. I suppose if I were in the same situation, I would be as emotionally unavailable as he. But, as the boy searching for love and pride from his father, it is hard to garner any empathy for him.

I did learn from him though. I learned about business and how to be strong on the outside when inside you are nothing but turmoil and strife. Most notably, I learned that when I have a child, I want to love them to the extreme. They will know how important and adored they are everyday.

I wish I had known my mother. She was dazzling. I've seen pictures of her, a raven haired, brown eyed beauty. I look nothing like my father, I'm a carbon copy of her. He could always see her when he looked at me. I thought it was disgust at first, then I realized it was recognition. I never knew her to miss her, but in an odd way I do. I am certain she would love Blair. I don't know why I'm so sure, I just have a feeling.

Lily is very nice and beyond all reason I know she cares about me. If I'm honest with myself, I care for her too, but a year with a stand in mother doesn't make up for a lifetime without one. I wonder what my life would have been like if I had known her. Would I even be the same person? Would I be more like Nate or Eric or even Dan? Would Blair still be a part of my life? It doesn't matter anyway, things are the way they are. And with regards to Blair, I am happy that something went right.

Life has a way of giving consolation in the oddest forms. I grew up without a mother, but got Lily in my darkest hour of need. I lost my father, but through his death I learned that he believed in me. I alienated an uncle and gained an empire. I may have lost my best friend but I think I found the love of my life.

So is life unfair? I don't know, but it is interesting. Through the trials and hurdles I have grown stronger, more aware to the twists and turns. I definitely don't have everything figured out and I doubt I ever will. I am just starting to settle down and get used to this love thing. But, I do have myself and now I have Blair. The idea is so comforting that it is my last thought before sleep finds me and I join her in calm slumber.


	9. For Something

A/N: Hey all! Sorry this is so long coming... Damn writers block!

Thank you for the amazing reviews of the last chpt!

Please let me know what you think!!

Thanks again! xoxo

* * *

"Every minute from this minute now  
We can do what we like anywhere  
I want so much to open your eyes  
'Cause I need you to look into mine"

-Snow Patrol "Open Your Eyes"

I dream in color. Bright and vivid. Brilliant and vibrant. I dream I'm secure and warm and sheltered. I can't recall the particulars, the scene or the guest stars. I only remember the feeling. No room for dark, sinister plots, just safety. I'm cocooned in a nontoxic world, where no one leaves and no one dies.

And even clearer, I remember that I can hear her voice again.

_Chuck Bass, I love you… _

But, I don't feel the stifling fear.

_I love so much it consumes me…_

And I don't second guess her words.

_I love you… _

I don't want to run.

_I know you love me too… _

I don't want to hide.

_Tell me it was for something…_

It's still a tape on loop inside my head. However, this time, it's not haunting and I'm not a coward. Here, in my dream, I am protected, sound, and cherished. And most importantly, above all else, I am loved.

I almost forget that I want to wake up, it's that good. But, when I do, I find that reality has trumped my imagination.

It's pitch black, save one light on the far side of the room that gives the suite an ethereal glow. Usually in these moments, I have those few second where I have to gather my bearings. Like when you sleep in an unfamiliar place and wake up all out of sorts. But in this instance, I know exactly where I am and exactly who I'm with. She is turned away from me now, her body spooned into me. Her back rests against my chest and her legs are cradled in mine. My arm is draped across her torso casually and I feel her breathing, even and deep. I spy a look at the clock, 3 A.M. I slept for a long time, a full eight hours. I haven't had such restful sleep in months, that wasn't drug induced anyway.

I venture to pull her closer, to fill the minute space separating us. I hadn't intended to wake her, however she stirs in my embrace.

"Hmmm…" She exhales, tugging my arm tighter around her.

We're still for while, the silence is pleasant and comfortable. The two of us are just reveling in the feel of our shapes pressed together. Yet as much as it pains me, I have to tell her the thought running through my head. Suddenly it is extremely imperative that she knows it.

"It was for something." I whisper in her ear.

"Huh?" She murmurs, sleep clouding her cognition.

"The lies and the hurt and the gossip, it _was_ for something. For this." I explain then kiss her neck.

She turns in my arms to face me. And she gives me that smile again. The smile that stops my heart. The one I would sell my soul for, the soul she knows I have.

Placing her hand on my face, she softly sweeps the hair from my forehead. Then she kisses me. Time ceases to matter anymore, as it always does to with her. I kiss her back, snaking my arms around her waist and forcing her ever nearer. She doesn't say anything, letting her body speak the words that go unsaid. It is our most effective means of communication.

We make love again, slow, expressive and unhurried. I take my time, revering her for all she has done and all that she is. My caresses are deliberate and prolonged, no time limits or deadlines. Just Blair and me, me and Blair, lost in our own utopia where nothing matters but here and now. She mirrors my touch, kissing and smoothing over the scratches and bruises she had inflicted earlier in the limo. It's gentle and tender.

I keep thinking that it should be boring with our familiarity and the lack of danger that usually surrounds my sex life. But, her eyes still turn liquid with lust and her moans nonetheless set my body burning like a pyre. And best of all, she holds me safe and warm, just like my dream. I never appreciated the wonders of laid-back, savoring, lingering, sincere, indulgent love making. It fuses the carnal desire with the abiding devotion, it's an exquisite mixture and I'm hooked. I presume that Blair is the key factor in my conversion on this matter. No one else could make this as fulfilling as she does. It isn't slutty or trashy, anonymous or fleeting. It's evocative and significant, palpable and subtle. What kind of sex was I settling for? She has shown me in one day the tremendous gap that I have had, one she so thoughtfully bridged. I was the 'experienced' partner, I was the original teacher. The manner in which the student has surpassed the instructor makes me what to learn everyday. I still love her saucy and naughty, but this side that is surprisingly equal to the other.

We lay together in the afterglow, petting, stroking, creating a connection wherever possible.

"Hungry?" I ask while my fingers mindlessly play with a curl in her hair.

"Yeah, and a shower." She responds as her fingers draw shapes on my abdomen.

I nod but we don't move. We continue to relax as if neither one of us had spoken. I look into her eyes and find the comfort I have been missing for god knows how long. And I realize that maybe I've never had it before. I wonder what she sees in my stare, not that it's really relevant because she seems to like what's there. Blair grins at me with ease, just a small smile that doesn't reveal her dimples. I'm not sure how long it takes before we find the will to get up, but eventually we make it to the bathroom.

I've never loved showering more. She's wet and soapy and her body slips against mine as I hold her. She washes my hair, her fingers running along my scalp. I feel my eyes roll back in my head and a groan sounds in my throat. She laughs at that, obviously pleased with the power of her touch on my body. I decide maybe she deserves some payback. And giggles erupt from her when I play with her sides, tickling her mischievously. She shoves me away and dodges my advances, trying to elude me. When I capture her again, I claim her lips in a hot needy kiss that makes her knees weak. I tighten my grip around her waist to steady her. We take it no further though, fatigue or satisfaction calming us temporarily. The laugher continues along with the uncontrollable smiles. I lead us under the spray, rinsing the suds from our skin.

I turn off the water and acquire a towel from the bar outside the shower. For a while, I watch how the beads of water travel down her figure, leaving tiny wet trails in their wake. I catch one on her collarbone with my tongue and she shivers at the contact. I begin to dry her off, lingering on her thighs, bottom and breasts. She laughs at my concentrated attention to certain areas.

"I think I'm dry there," She giggles again and I remove the towel from the inside of her thigh.

"Dirty boy." She chides, shaking her head with a grin.

"Just trying to be thorough." I justify.

"Uh huh," She returns skeptically, "Your turn."

She takes a dry towel from the rack. Then, runs the fabric along my back, shoulders, arms, chest and neck. I have never been doted on like this before and I am soaking up every second. I understand that I'm privileged, beyond privileged really. I have those in my service that do nothing but wait on me all day. But, this consideration is unlike anything I have ever known. This attention is caring and natural and deliberate. I don't know which aspects of this day I am the most partial to: the desire, the playfulness or the affection. I don't give the thought too much weight. Mostly because, why choose when you have all three?

Next, moving lower, she drops to her knees and my adrenalin spikes. It is a natural reaction to seeing her kneel before me. I expect nothing, but having her there in that position prompts my testosterone to make my decisions for me. She journeys up each leg from foot to thigh, moving slowly. My hormones begin to complain because she is ignoring the areas I had paid such special consideration to. Her tongue darts out and catches a drop of water trickling down my hipbone. My breath catches and I grit my teeth. She then quirks an eyebrow at me and smirks. She rises and wraps the towel around my waist, folding it in on itself.

"All dry." She affirms.

"I think you missed a spot." I remind as I leer at her still naked body.

"Did I?" She inquires with mock innocence, running the a towel through her hair.

"Tease." I quip as she wraps her towel around her chest.

She steps out of the shower and pulls her hair up and secures it with a pin she found in her purse. I watch in rapt attention as the nape of her neck becomes fully exposed. My true weakness, the sexiest part of a woman. Her hand comes to the back of her neck as she rubs it lightly. I am beguiled by her motions and even though I understand that her actions are intentional, I don't give a damn. My eyes are fixed on that one spot, my mouth agape.

"You should conserve your strength, Bass. You're going to need it later." She promises while looking over her shoulder.

Then she walks out of the bathroom, sashaying into the living quarters leaving me wishing that it was later. I take a deep breath wondering how she gets me every time.


	10. Lucky

A/N: Hey all!

Thanks for still reading, I know I am sooo slow with updates. But life got crazy for awhile!

I am actually quite fond of this chpt... It is really fluffy :)

If I can get my imagination on board I'll update "Forgiven".

Thanks again & don't forget to review!!

xoxo

* * *

"I just want to hold you  
Am I in too deep?  
Have I lost my mind?  
Well I don't care you're here tonight.  
You can take my breath away  
I can be your hero..."

--Enrique Iglesias "Hero"

When I follow her out of the bathroom, she's at my closet with her back to me. It isn't completely stocked, most of my wardrobe is still at Lily's. But the essentials are there, the basics from my sometimes elaborate collection of attire. She procures one of my button up shirts and slips it on. When she lets go of her towel it pools around her feet, it's surprisingly salacious for such a simple action. She lets down her hair, still damp from the shower. The wavy tendrils fall down her back as she shakes them free from their confines. I feel my stomach do a somersault and my breathing is momentarily shaky. She turns to me as her fingers hook the middle buttons into the corresponding holes.

If I thought she looked sexy before this moment, I was measuring on an incomplete scale; I didn't have this point of reference. She is utterly sinful in the over-sized Alexander McQueen dress shirt. The creamy skin of her exposed legs is in stark contrast to the bright blue fabric. No make-up, headband, or finery of any kind, natural Blair, undiluted and authentic. I know I'm gawking, but I can't help myself. She is either ignorant to my praise or is trying to feign disinterest. Then, she rolls the too long sleeves up to the middle of her forearms and smiles at me.

And I'm a goner. I give up trying to fight my overwhelming feelings for her. Honestly, I think this is the moment. I have accepted my fate as irrevocably in love with Blair Cornelia Waldorf. The last bowline has been cut and I sail away from my safe harbor. The swells and squalls are of no consequence, there is no turning back now. And if ever there was a north star to guide me, it's her. Funny how I keep falling deeper for her, when each time I am certain that my capacity to love has bottomed out.

Just as I am about to indulge my desire for her again, there is a rapping at the door. I have an errant thought, _Great timing room service, come back in a year when I have sated my hunger for her. Then I might have a need for you. _But my stomach protests, the promise of food is too enticing to be shrugged off. I walk to the suite's entrance, still clad in only a towel.

A young guy enters with a cart filled with dome covered plates. He is all business as I lead him to the table. That is, until he spots Blair. Suddenly, he isn't watching where he is going any longer and bumps into my leg with his cart, rattling the dishes.

He recovers quickly, shaking his head a little, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Bass."

I give him a withering glance as Blair comes to my side. I wrap a possessive arm around her waist and kiss her temple.

"I didn't even notice what you ordered." She realizes, her left hand coming to rest on my bare torso. I love it when she does that, like she is laying claim to me as I just did to her.

"Don't worry, I know what you like." I say, allowing the double meaning.

She laughs and rubs one of her bare legs against the other. The waiter doesn't miss this, his eyes cast down to observe the motion. He continues setting up our late night meal, his gaze wandering to her when he thinks I'm not looking. It's not that I blame him. He's a man and there is a goddess not two feet from him. But it still pisses me off. I never thought I was the jealous kind until I had her. Then, I checked another of the seven deadly sins off my to-do list: envy. I became envious of anyone else that got to touch her, kiss her, hold her. I greatly underestimated the power of it, the overshadowing nature of the emotion. I think I am ready for it now and I check myself, brushing off the jealousy that scratches at my brain.

"That looks delicious." Blair compliments the young waiter.

She reaches past him to nab a strawberry off the plate and her hand brushes his arm. The guy is grinning at her, watching her take the fruit between her lips. Quite loudly, I clear my throat.

"Oh… Umm… Will that be all? I mean is there anything else I can get you?" He stammers, probably fearful for his job right about now.

How I enjoy a healthy fear from my staff.

"That'll be _all_." I instruct, the implication going far beyond the meal.

The waiter starts to go, pulling his cart behind him.

Before he is clear of the threshold, Blair calls out to him and waves, "Thank you."

He blushes bright red and trips as he closes the door. I turn my attention to her after the lock clicks softly and raise my eyebrows.

"What?" She asks coyly, still snugly fastened to my side.

"I know you can't help but look irresistible, but I'd rather you didn't flirt with the help." I advise with a hint of haughty disapproval.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She denys, turning her nose up.

"You know precisely what I'm talking about." I clarify, "And if you want to flirt…"

I trail off, drawing my hand under the shirt and up her thigh. She lets my palm find her bottom and pull her closer to me. Her arms wind around my shoulders. We kiss, my tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. She tastes like strawberries.

"Shall we?" I ask, extending my hand to the feast laid before us. Even though it's a shotgun order at three in the morning, it still looks incredible.

"Hold on a sec, I need to text Dorota. She's probably worried." Blair starts toward her handbag to acquire her cell.

Once it is found, she flips it open and gasps when it comes to life.

"What is it?" I inquire, hoping no one is hurt or worse.

"Serena getting on a plane with Carter Baizen! What is she doing?" She yells at the phone, shaking her head in disbelief.

I come up behind her to look at the display. I flash to a memory of Blair drinking on her sofa and Carter kissing her. My gut twists at the recollection and I try to calm myself down, my gaze tinged with green. At least Blair isn't his prey this time. And Serena is a big girl, she can take care of herself.

"That guy's bad news." I interject in a grave voice.

"That's what everyone says about you." Blair returns, pointing out the hypocritical nature of my statement.

"Are they wrong?" I insist with a smirk .

"Hmmm… maybe," She rotates so she is face to face with me again, "But I kinda have a thing for bad boys."

She licks my lips and turns it into a kiss. Her hand comes to the back of my head and forces my mouth to hers.

"I kinda have a thing for you." I retort when we come up for air.

"You definitely have _a thing _for me." She maintains, reaching under my towel to run her hand along my length.

"Don't start what you can't finish." I warn her, my voice rough.

"You're the one that wanted to flirt." She reminds me, removing her hand and turning on her heel.

She goes to the table, leaving me standing in the middle of the room completely aroused. I take a deep breath and try to console myself with the idea of a full stomach. Well that, and the potential of payback later.

I join her, pulling my chair close to hers and resting my fingers between her crossed legs. It's not really a sexual advance, I simply have this impulse to keep touching her. She nibbles on this and that, feeding me if she finds something she really likes. I lick her fingers clean, then kiss her to share the taste. I pick up another strawberry and dip it in whipped cream before offering it to her. I put a little dab on her nose in the process. When her bite is complete, I lick off the white fluff. She laughs and pulls me in for a true kiss.

"I love you." She says playfully.

But instead of automatically saying it back, I pause. I wonder how she _could_ love me. And before I can stop myself and amend my utterance to a less revealing comment, I find myself whispering, "Why?"

"Hmm?" Her voice is confused, she doesn't understand my hesitance after such a light remark.

"Why _do_ you love me?" I blurt it all out now, unable to close the flood gates once they have been opened, "How could you? I ruin everything I touch."

I take a beat to control my voice, then continue even quieter, "I don't understand how you could want that. I just can't see it."

We are both quiet for a moment, I can't look at her. I begin to think that she isn't going to answer and I'm not sure what to think about that or if I even want her to answer.

But a second later, she pulls me in for a hug. She hold me closely for a brief time, then moves away to look me in the eye.

"That's one of the reasons, you know?" She's not really asking and has a look of peaceful tenderness on her face.

"What?" I inquire, completely lost.

"That you can't see it, what I can." her voice is resolved and thoughtful, "You don't know how wonderful you already are, no changes, no renovations."

Her hand extends to my neck, holding me in place.

"Could you be serious, please?" I throw back weakly, not believing that the construction zone that is my life could be least bit appealing. Truly, I should come with warning tape and orange pylons. I turn my head in the opposite direction. This is why I was so scared, she is finally going to see… me. What I warned her about forever ago at the White Party.

"I _am_ serious." She sounds slightly exasperated and turns my face back to hers, "You have all this goodness pent up inside you, waiting to be realized. If only you could get out of your own way."

I see the earnestness in her gaze, and I try to lighten the mood even though my expression probably doesn't match my tone, "Thought I was perfect the way I am."

"You are, you just have to let yourself be that person." She explains while rubbing my neck with her hand, but it does nothing to ease my tension.

So, she continues, "I saw him today, when you smiled. I saw the man you could be-- the man you _will_ be."

"So that's it?" I question, slightly appeased, "The big motivation behind your love?"

"Well, an impressive endowment and a billion dollar inheritance help too." She teases, laughing softly.

I give a chuckle myself as she climbs onto my lap. I drape my arms around her and she places her head on my shoulder. She closes her eyes and I do the same.

Unexpectedly, she persists in a relaxed voice, "And I feel safe… You make me feel so safe. And beautiful and worth it."

I wrap my arms around her more tightly, granting her any security she might be lacking. I'm surprised, I thought the sense of safety was one sided. She takes her head off my shoulder and opens her eyes. They look into mine, filled with emotion. I look back at her bewitched, but that's par for the course when she comes into view.

"When you look at me, you see _me_. And the parts that others see as my flaws, you see them as attributes. The parts that I always had to hide from my parents, my teachers and especially Nate." She shakes her head in remembrance.

"Like my unwillingness to let someone get one over on me for instance. I am not a shrinking violet, but to be accepted as a 'lady' I have to be prim and proper. But with you, I get to be Blair." She shrugs with a thankful expression gracing her features.

"A little dark sometimes maybe. And I'm not afraid to tell you if I have plans that would make me a bitch in other peoples eyes."

"Great, I bring out the worst in you." I sullenly discover, knowing it was too good to be true.

"Not the worst. With you, I don't have to hide or pretend, I'm not split in two. I'm just me." Her explanation is an echo of my own again.

"And not just that, you help people, Chuck. Our friends, you would do anything to protect them, to protect me. You've given up so much and you still drop everything if I call. You were always there… I know what you did at Prom." She gives me a knowing glance to accompany her accusation.

"Rigging the vote for Nelly Yuki?" I reply, playing it off.

"No, rigging the vote for me." Her stare deepens, daring me to deny it.

"You deserved a perfect night." I agree, meeting her gaze again.

"See what I mean? You're loyal and strong. Beyond that, you're thoughtful and generous. And sometimes the way you look at me… I can feel myself come alive. I can't really put it into words but…" She trails off, swallowing hard before she finishes, "You're my hero, Chuck Bass."

For a second I can't believe what I just heard. I am not the protagonist in any story, let alone my own. I have always been more comfortable in the role of antagonist. Heroic and Chuck Bass don't go together, they don't mesh. But, her sincerity leads me to believe otherwise. Doesn't she see the humor in this statement? I certainly do, she is _my_ rock, not the other way around.

"How can I be the hero when you're always saving me?" I question, still shocked from her revelation.

"We can be each other's heroes-- You save me and I'll save you." She compromises.

"Seems fair. What a pair me make…" I observe, putting my hands on either side of her face before I ask, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Just lucky I guess." She throws out before she kisses me.

Lucky doesn't begin to cover it.


	11. A Surprise

A/N: Hey all!

Last chapter!

Thank you, frevently, for all of your support on this story.

It has been a great joy to write & your kind words of encourgement took me to places I never would've gone otherwise.

I hope you enjoy the last chpt!

My final plea: Leave a review to let me know if you liked the chpt & the story!

Thanks again! :)

xoxo

* * *

"Every question  
Every answer too  
Ever constant  
Ever changing you  
It's all memory in the sun  
Or it's all in the darkness  
Maybe it's all around to see  
If we try  
And maybe it's been inside of me  
All this time  
Love love love  
Love love love  
Love love love"

-Shiny Toy Guns "Season of Love"

Once we've had our fill, of food at least, Blair finally texts Dorota. She wasn't worried, being a Gossip Girl subscriber, she already surmised the reason for Blair's absence. Dorota told her how overjoyed she was that we finally worked it out. That seems to be the compounding emotion of the day, joy.

Blair excuses herself and goes into the washroom. I am left with my thoughts for a few minutes. I go to the closet and choose to put on a pair of silk pajama pants and a robe. I have a inkling that Blair and I will be naked at least one more time before we are seen in public again. Consequently, I don't want to get fully dressed. I think that at this point, we could stay in the hotel for the rest of our lives and I wouldn't feel the least bit put out.

But mostly what occupies my thoughts is what she told me at the table, why she loves me. I am skeptical by design. You don't grow up like I did without questioning the motives of everyone around you. I suppose that's why I always liked Nathaniel so much. He is absolutely genuine, the perfect counterpoint to me. Unlike the rest of the upper crust sycophantic socialites that surround us, Nate was innocent and real. He didn't hide his personality and when he tried, it was almost comical. It's not that he is simple or stupid, he just wasn't hardened to the world around him. He expected the best of people with his decent, gentle disposition. And he stayed a true comrade through some of my more colorful exploits.

I figured we would stay tight through everything. He would eventually marry Blair with me by his side as best man. I had a legendary bachelor party mapped out in my mind already. And then life changed and so did he.

He started looking at Serena differently. The open book that is Nate Archibald turned a page and he couldn't help himself. I never held it against him. Serena has a magnetism, an impulsive energy about her and he got caught up. Serena was wild like me and Blair was her Nate; Blair was reserved and safe. That's why we all assumed that it would be Nate and Blair forever.

But Blair had another facet to her persona, she _was_ effected by our world and she knew how to control it. People were her marionettes and she could pull the strings masterfully. She kept this from Nate, recognizing that he didn't have the stomach or the talent for scheming. Serena was never vengeful or cold, she was too sunny and happy-go-lucky to be bothered. She had also abandoned Blair when she was most vulnerable. So, who did that leave? I became Blair's confidant on all things diabolical. Together we could work any situation to our favor. I always thought she was most appealing when she unleashed her maniacal self on the Upper East Side. She has this sexy gloating look about her when her plan falls into place. And though I would always proposition her through our banter and coveted her on a carnal level, the sign on her read: _Nate's girlfriend, off limits_.

Honestly, that didn't bother me. Why should I begrudge him one piece of ass in a sea of slutty, willing warm bodies? Therefore, it never went beyond controlled surface attraction. She wasn't mine to have, besides she was too buttoned up for my purposes. That is until I was introduced to the real Blair on that fateful night, the most epic night of my life thus far. I watched in shock and delight as she showed off her 'moves'. A new appreciation for her was ignited and while I always preferred Serena physically to choose between them, I couldn't for the life of me remember why. Blair was not simply a prize or trophy, she was the was the whole game. And I wanted to play so badly. Still, the best friends girlfriend moniker held me back from outright seduction. She was the ultimate taboo conquest, not only off limits but also, completely pure. I had to be sure she knew what she was getting into. I didn't want to force myself on her, as I had shamefully done with other girls.

The regret I feel for those occurrences plagues me. There is no justification for it. I felt that I was within my rights to have anything I wanted, the sense of entitlement was bone deep. I was born into a society of excess and I was the king of indulgence; no one said no to a Bass. My twisted mind told me I could have anyone I wanted, whether they were willing or not. The lack of respect I held for women stemmed from the mindset that they served a single function, and that function was my pleasure. I can now think of myself as a snake in the garden of low hanging fruit, but I wanted challenges. And in my experience, the no's would turn to yes's once my persuasion took effect and loosened their inhabitations.

It wasn't until Blair offered herself to me, trusting the snake not to bite her, that the unsound logic I used to rationalize my actions came undone. I felt for her, I wanted to be gentle and patient. I needed her to enjoy every moment of her first time. That night I experienced a real, emotional connection with a member of the opposite sex. It was a first for both of us. She found the softness underneath my rigid shell. I wanted to give her everything but concurrently, keep her entirely to myself.

If a man had taken advantage of her, like I had done to so many others, I would have died inside. All I wanted to do was protect her, shield her from men like me. In one limo ride, my entire attitude regarding women had done a one-eighty. I am still racked with disgust and self loathing over my past indiscretions. I ask myself how I got to that point, how I let myself become a monster. No matter how much I change, my history haunts me. As a result, when she tells me she loves me, how can I _not _question it? One day I hope I can atone for my behavior, but I doubt that I can erase those stains from my soul.

But, Blair brings about this inspiration inside me. I aspire to be the man she already believes I am. I want to tell her everything, share the portions of me that I have locked away, too frightened of the reactions they would instigate. I need her to understand that even though I might be damned, it doesn't carry the same weight when she's near.

Before I can muse any further, she comes up behind me and encircles me in her arms. Then, she slides around to be in front of me.

She looks worried, "Where did you go in that mind of yours?" she asks, smoothing the crease that had formed on my forehead.

I unknit my brow at her touch, "Just thinking."

She nods and gives me an understanding smile.

"I want to show you something, put this on." I pull white hotel robe from a hanger. She gives me a perplexed expression in return, but throws it on anyway.

"And you'll need these." I state, ignoring her look and offer a pair of hotel slippers. Both are too large for her, she looks besieged by terrycloth, I think it's adorable.

She stares at me, waiting for an explanation. When I supply none, she gets frustrated and finally asks, "Why?"

"It's a surprise." I submit as clarification.

"Where are we going?" She mopes when I give away nothing.

I smirk at her attitude and realize why her father couldn't help but indulge her. She has a great sulking face.

"Not telling," I hold firm, "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now would it?" I guide us to the door of the suite, grabbing my key before we depart.

Blair doesn't answer the rhetorical question, "I don't like surprises." she petulantly gripes as we walk down the hallway toward the bank of elevators.

I'm not buying into her antics and I tell her knowingly, "You love surprises."

"Only if I figure them out first." She admits as I push the button once we've reached our intermediate destination.

"Do I need to explain the concept of a surprise again?" I roll my eyes at her as the lift doors open before us.

She huffs a little as we enter and observes, "You just like to see me squirm."

"It is an accomplishment to get you to squirm." I say while setting my hands on her hips and touching my lips to her neck.

"Mmmm…" She sighs in contentment, her prior irritation subsiding.

I push the knob for the top floor and she doesn't miss this, "We're going to Lily's?"

"Not exactly." I reply.

Her mind is running through the potential end points as I smile at her efforts. When we've almost reached the floor and I slide my key into the corresponding slot below the buttons. The elevator continues upward, not stopping at the penthouse, her interest increasing steadily. The door opens again to a hallway not meant to be seen by everyday guests. It is a completely utilitarian corridor, no ornamentation or embellishments. I walk out totally as ease because I have been up here many times. Blair is exactly the opposite, hesitant and tense.

"It's not much farther." I coax, taking her by the hand. I direct us through the short hallway into a nondescript stairwell.

"Chuck." She warns, not liking one bit that she's out of her comfort zone.

"Almost there." I assure her as we climb the single flight of steps. We get up to another plain metal door with a sign that reads, 'Authorized Personnel Only'.

"I don't think we're supposed to be up here." She states warily.

"I do own the place. Besides, it is about five in the morning, no one will be around for hours." I throw out, "Where's your sense of adventure, Waldorf?"

She takes the challenge, looking at me boldly, "Fine, let's go."

I smirk at my easy victory and turn the handle. I walk over the threshold and onto the concrete.

Blair glances at me, understanding at once where we are, "I should have known. Chuck Bass on a rooftop, _huge_ surprise."

"Wait for it." I maintain, taking us to the east side of the building.

"Oh my god." She whispers when the view takes full effect, "You can see the whole city from here."

Manhattan is laid out before us, the city lights twinkling in the pre-dawn blackness. The bustle continues below us, but it is perfectly calm up here. The wind wisps by us lightly, stirring Blair's wavy brown locks. I run my fingers through them delicately as my eyes appraise her enchanted face.

"I get why you come up here." She states, her gaze still directed on the urban landscape, "It's breathtaking."

"Yes," I concur, "The view is quite nice too."

She turns to me, noticing that my stare is fixed on her. She smiles at my comment and I put an arm around her waist. We are quiet for awhile, taking in the vast panorama.

"Do you know why I have a thing for rooftops?" I inquire, still glancing out over the distance.

"It's a good secluded place to lure young women?" She guesses with a smirk in her voice.

"There is always that." I concede.

"Tell me why." she prompts, turning her body slightly to see my face.

I prepare myself for my story, hoping I can hold it together, "When I was about six or seven," I begin steadily, "I got curious about my mother. All the other kids at school had mothers and I wanted to know where mine was. So, one night I asked my father. He said she was in heaven and he was busy so I should go play. I didn't know what that meant and I went to my au pair and asked her where heaven was. She said she'd show me. Then, she took me up on the roof and pointed to the sky. She held me in her arms and told me that when people go to heaven, they live with the stars. And if I looked hard enough, I could see my mother watching over me." I stop suddenly, to breathe a ragged breath.

"I suppose whenever I go on rooftops, I'm searching for _her_…" I confess, "Then, later I did find out about the hook-up potential." I end with a joking remark, trying to make the moment less heavy.

Blair stays mute, waiting to hear if I have more to divulge.

"I've never told anyone that before." I acknowledge as her hands pull me closer and I enfold her in my arms.

"I'm glad you told me." She says into my chest.

"Me too." I admit.

Looking up at the stars with Blair cradled in my embrace, I feel it all again: the joy, the pain, the hunger, the satisfaction, the safety, the passion, and the love. And we stay there until the sun breaks the horizon, lighting the city and bringing it to life. I realize that this _is_ a metaphor for us, the darkness and the light co-existing in harmony, two sides of the same coin. Both giving into the other at the right time, but neither one resentful of it. I look at her face and she smiles again and without having to think about it, so do I.

"I love you." She breathes.

"I love you too." I murmur in return.

Then I place my hand on her chin, turning her face up to mine. Our lips meet as the sun washes over us, bringing a new day and in our case, a new life filled with promise and possibilities and butterflies.

*The End*


End file.
